


The Sound of Her Wings

by canistakahari



Category: Metal Gear, The Sandman
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Crossover, Gen, Implied Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the sound of beating wings that awakens him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Her Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciaZephyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaZephyr/gifts).



It's the sound of beating wings that awakens him.   
  
When Snake opens his eyes, when he manages to peel apart reluctant lids and just  _focus_ , through the rain and the blood and the grey haze of pain, it's a young woman he sees, incongruous against the background of destruction.   
  
She's stark black and white in the dim light, hair a mess, dark eyes lined with kohl in designs that swirl over her cheek. There's a silver ankh, hanging from her neck, and she's dressed a bit like a punk. Black boots, leather jeans, skimpy top. He's seen her before.  
  
"Hello," she says, brightly, giving him a little wave. She's holding a clear umbrella printed with pink kittens.   
  
"You again," rasps Snake. There's a voice, distant, in his ear, like the buzz of a bee caught inside a jar. Otacon, maybe. He's not sure. He wishes he could pull it right out of his head.   
  
"Me again," says Death, smiling. She crouches down beside him and picks up a damp pack of cigarettes from the ground near Snake's mangled hand. "These will kill you, you know," she adds, voice half-joking, as she taps one out and places it between Snake's pale lips. He thinks she lights it with a fingertip, but he's not entirely sure. There's a blur to his vision that keeps doubling everything. He could do without two of her smiling faces, but he figures it could be worse.   
  
"It is for real, this time?" he asks, shifting the cigarette to the corner of his mouth, taking a drag, and then exhaling. Something in his chest rattles.  
  
"I don't know," admits Death. "Sometimes, certain people make things more interesting. You're definitely one of those."  
  
"Who else?"  
  
Death cocks her head to the side, thinking. "Rasputin. But that's an obvious one. Leonardo da Vinci. He was nice, though."  
  
The rain patters down, soft and crisp, and Snake coughs, the cigarette tumbling from his lips. Death reaches out to retrieve it, wiping a trickle of blood from his chin. "Oops," she says, with a gentle grin. "Looks like your body is trying to tell you something."  
  
Snake laughs, a dry, painful sound. "Stay with me," he says.   
  
Death looks at him gravely, and tucks a stray bit of hair into his bandanna. "There's nowhere I'd rather be, Dave."  
  
It shouldn't be comforting, but it is.   
  
Snake closes his eyes.


End file.
